


Pentesting

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: I Am Thou, Thou Art I [3]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Consentacles, F/M, Multi, Multiple Penetration, Older!Futaba, Other, Post-Persona 5, Tentacle Sex, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 18:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11190807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Futaba hasn't figured out how to handle her crush on Akira. Necronomicon discovers a solution.





	Pentesting

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by HK87!
> 
> This story is set some time after the end of Persona 5 and thus contains full spoilers, including the endgame.

 

Futaba had figured out pretty early on that her Persona was different than the others.

It wasn't the whole Shadow thing or the fact that she got beamed up into Necronomicon where everyone else simply stood next to theirs -- Makoto excluded, although  _riding_ Johanna was a little bit different than sitting inside her -- but the first time they went to Mementos, the divide was clear. She could sense the boundaries of the place, trace every tunnel like the map was overlaid on the inside of her head, and endless data streamed between her ears as a profane whisper, seeking knowledge of anything and everything. Necronomicon was otherwise quiet at first, letting her learn the ropes without any hand-holding, and Futaba appreciated that sort of confidence in her abilities, especially after taking such a mental beating in the pyramid.

For a month before they confronted Shido, Futaba had spent her time scouring the web for information on cognitive psience and turned up a series of reports about the Kirijo Group that hadn't quite been scrubbed from a set of aging servers, but their work with Shadows wasn't half as fascinating as what she had pulled out of a few locked blog posts from a girl in Inaba. She professed to be a well-known idol -- which sounded delusional until Futaba traced the metadata back to no other than Rise Kujikawa -- and disclosed her experiences in a place called the Midnight Channel, which sounded a lot like the Kirijos' so-called Dark Hour. 

It sounded like the Metaverse.

More importantly, Rise's description of Himiko really reminded her of Necronomicon, in ability if not in shape. The power to scan enemies with a look, to save her friends in a moment of crisis, it was all the same. What didn't seem to be the same was being able to exist inside her Persona, and Futaba was thoroughly disappointed until a more recent post from Rise mentioned meeting a girl named Fuuka, who apparently wielded a Persona named Lucia. The description was vague and punctuated with emoji, but Futaba could still close her eyes and imagine the blue and golden sphere at Lucia's foundation, another girl standing inside the panopticon. 

For a little while, it made her feel less lonely.

Being around Akira had made her feel the same way, strong enough to stand against Yaldabaoth without flinching, and she had given him strength too at the very end, enough to power up Satanael before it dealt the god a final blow. It wasn't until later, after he had been freed from prison and returned home, that Futaba realized some part of her had hoped that moment would have been enough to change his feelings, to see her as more than the scared, traumatized girl hiding under Sojiro's wing.

They still texted. Sometimes Akira would email her funny videos -- although he had awful taste in memes -- and check in to make sure she was doing alright, but for the first time in her life, Futaba confronted the fact that a relationship solely existing over the internet wasn't the same as having someone sitting beside her and listening. There was the occasional promise to come back to Tokyo, but the fact was that Akira's parents had no interest in shipping him back to the city, and Futaba had a feeling he was staying away from the rest of the Phantom Thieves on purpose, wary of being the catalyst for a new crisis. Self-sacrificial to the end.

She wanted to hold Akira's hand while they walked through Akihabara, she wanted to give him chocolate for Valentine's Day, and she _really_ wanted to know if he looked as good out of his thief's outfit as he did in it. 

It wasn't as if she was truly alone. Makoto had gone off to college and was halfway through a criminal justice degree, but returned on every break to take her out shopping. Futaba had found out she was dating Ann way before anyone else, and wondered exactly how the two of them made it work when the blonde girl was constantly flying all over the country for modeling jobs. She'd even landed a bit part on a sentai show as a villain of the week, which Futaba had snagged a recording of and blasted clips across social media in an attempt to boost the ratings, even if everyone privately agreed her acting had been average at best. Ann took her out to sushi afterwards, chatty as always, and Futaba summoned the courage to ask what was on her mind.

"How do you...get into a relationship?" She formed the question around a slice of sashimi, using the bite as an excuse not to elaborate.

Ann snagged a piece of tuna with her chopsticks, smiling a little. "Like a dating-type relationship? The full romo?"

"Yeah." It was way easier to focus on her food instead of Ann's face, even though she knew it was rude. "You and Makoto seem really happy."

"We are. And somehow, Ryuji still manages to give me shit every time we post a couple's photo." Ann's laugh made it clear she didn't mind, and Futaba ignored the faint stab of guilt in the pit of her stomach; she'd seen all those pictures too, felt a longing for the same that burned so deep in her chest it might as well have been branded there. "But Makoto and I really got together as a spur of the moment thing. It worked out, but I'm not sure it's a good example."

Futaba felt the edge of one eye twitch in disappointment. "Spur of the moment how?"

"So I told her how I felt after...some stuff happened, and Makoto said that dating with all the thief stuff going on might be a distraction, all logical and stuff. _Except_ a week later, she kissed me after a fight in Mementos. You know, when that one Shadow trashed me and I had to get dragged back upstairs?" It was hard to forget, but Futaba hadn't put two and two together about Makoto being the one to take Ann back to the entrance. "Told me never to worry her that way again. I teased her for it for like a month since it was so superhero." 

Maybe she should have done that with Akira. Futaba pushed her plate away, appetite gone, and tried to think of a moment where she could have made the attempt. It was hard when Necronomicon kept her suspended in the air, always watching but never in the thick of the fight; she was always apart, distant, the voice on the other end of the communicator. It hurt, and anger boiled up in her chest, so strong that the feeling must have shown on her face.  

Ann's hand was a soft anchor on her shoulder, enough presence for Futaba to look up and hesitate in her fuming. "You really loved him, huh?"

"I--" Being confronted about it so directly sent her thoughts into an anxious, endless spiral. "I-is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, but that's because it's my specialty." Ann winked, giving Futaba's shoulder a light squeeze. "I thought you two might actually work it out back in the day, but I guess he was kind of wrapped up in everything with Shido."

She nodded, then quickly changed the topic of conversation until the bill was paid. As much as Ann meant well, the last thing Futaba wanted was her bringing up the subject to Akira, and it seemed easier to downplay her feelings than risk being made a fool of. It wasn't until the walk back home that a voice rang through the inside of her head, one she hadn't heard since that long, climactic battle.

_I must apologize, Sakura Futaba._

Necronomicon's tone was warm, familiar in the way of a tight embrace that protected her from harm's way. Futaba had always assigned 'she' to the voice -- it was supposed to be a part of her mind, after all -- although it probably didn't matter, considering the Persona was a giant spaceship with a gargoyle on top. 

"It's been a while." She took a turn at the next alley, leaning against the wall and taking out her phone so it would seem like she was just making a call. "If you want to take out Shadows, the gang's kind of busy." 

 _The only shadow here is the one over your own heart._ Futaba flinched at that, but didn't argue. _Had I known I was your only source of company, I would not have faded from view._

"That's what all the girls say." The joke fell flat on her own tongue, and when she scrolled past Akira's last text, a knot formed in Futaba's throat.

 _This is no jest._ Necronomicon's presence was stronger now, more present like it was within the Metaverse, casting her vision in a swathe of luminescent green. _Perhaps I could have provided comfort in his absence._

"I've got enough Phantom Thief porn parodies to jerk off to, thanks." Futaba muttered, and then stormed off down the street. 

Her Persona fell silent until later that night, when she was hammering out code for a vanity project. After completing her high school courses online -- which had been so boring she wanted to cry, then hack the system to deliver a shiny new diploma right to the house -- Sojiro had been content to let her avoid college as long as she had a way to make a living. Maybe it wasn't some nine-to-five respectable secretary schtick, but Futaba made enough money through a handful of apps to rent a place two doors down from LaBlanc and fill it with all the hardware the local deliveryman could carry. Besides the ten percent per month she chucked into a retirement fund for the old man, there wasn't much else to splurge her yen on.

Well, except the occasional video or animation. She hadn't been lying to Necronomicon about that, but what she spent her private time and money on wasn't anyone else's business. Lurid images splashed across the three screens in front of her, audio filtered through a pair of headphones expensive enough to pick up every slick sound and slap of skin, but her hands were idle except for the occasional drag of nails along one thigh, enough to keep her from being fully immersed. Futaba preferred to watch, to touch herself after instead of during, even if it felt like she was going to overheat by the time she reached her bed.

Her fantasies were pretty stock, she supposed, at least for someone who had grown up seeing the full and occasionally horrifying range of what the internet could provide. Outfits were fun -- especially when they had form and function like the Phantom Thieves -- and Futaba had considered learning how to tie herself up a few times, only to balk at the thought of getting stuck and having to call someone to get out. There were too many headlines of 'local geek dies to weird sex experiment' that passed through her newsfeed, and the only person she'd trust to do that sort of thing was, well...

 _Would you like my assistance?_ Necronomicon chimed in, and Futaba yelped in surprise, hands recoiling from where they had been playing under her own shirt. _You do not have to be alone._  

"I appreciate whatever love doctor motivation you picked up while taking a nap in my head, but I really don't think a Persona is going to get me a date." She muttered, caught between tugging her shirt back down and continuing. 

 _That is not what I meant to imply._ A flicker of green passed over Futaba's vision, and she felt a touch that wasn't quite there, a whisper of presence like a single finger stroking down her spine. _I know your body as well as your mind._

"Uh, okay." Futaba realized that had to be true, but when she fumbled for her phone and unlocked it, the app for the Metaverse was still gone. "But I don't think I can cross over anymore." 

 _Close your eyes. Focus._ Necronomicon whispered, voice crackling with heat and static. _I can carry you with me._  

She didn't believe it, not quite, but obeyed anyway, trying to imagine being inside that powerful hub again, the world at her fingertips, shielded from pain. Energy rippled across Futaba's skin, making her shiver, and when she dared to open her eyes again, it was to pulsing jade green, displays and data circling around her like a planet's rings. Skintight latex had overwritten the mess of her casual clothes, imprinted with glowing circuitry, and red-lensed goggles made a weight balanced right above her brow. Futaba pulled them down into place, running her fingers fondly over the equipment as it gave her sight beyond sight.

There was no seat, but as she leaned back, the gravity around her took a comfortable shape, keeping her hanging in Necronomicon's center while leaving her hands free. For a moment, Futaba simply reveled in the hundreds of readings around her, taking in the information before she realized a great deal of it was her own vital signs: heart rate, blood pressure, levels of endorphins and neurohormones. She toyed around with the numbers just for the sake of it, stretching them out between her hands and back again, playing cat's cradle as endless energy jumped against her fingertips.

 _Here, you can imagine whatever you wish._ Her Persona's voice was louder here, enveloping her from head to toe in a wave of sound. _The only limit is your own mind._

Instantly, Futaba's thoughts flashed to Akira, but she swallowed that urge back down. If Necronomicon was going to help her get off and go to sleep, that was fine, but bringing her emotions into it felt like a mistake. She was considering what exactly to ask for when something rubbed along her calf, and a glance down revealed a coiling black tentacle, the belly of it dyed teal. A dozen of the same had lifted her into the Persona back when she was Awakened, and Futaba put two and two together, eyes widening as she calculated all the possibilities. 

"Classic." Humor lined the words, hid the faint nervous jolt in her chest as the tentacle seized around her ankle, tightening enough to bind. She had complete control over this -- until she didn't want to. "Is this really possible? Can I--"

 _Yes._ There was an eagerness in Necronomicon's tone that hadn't been there before, a longing that left a sudden ache right between Futaba's thighs. To be wanted, hungered for, yet safe from being hurt; it was the impossible dream, one now right within her grasp. _You need only ask._

"Come here, then." Futaba gestured with an open hand. "Let me feel what you're like." 

Another tentacle descended from above her head, draping right into waiting fingers, and Futaba was surprised by the warmth of the construct, its flexibility as Necronomicon twisted it around her wrist. There was some give like flesh, the surface smooth and scaled, and when she ran her thumb along the inside where the scales met, she felt a shiver, pinpricks of sensation echoed at the base of her skull. This was part of her and yet not, independent enough to move and touch, to feel desire in turn. 

"Nice." The compliment was breathless, and Futaba wasn't entirely surprised when a third tentacle caressed down the opposite shoulder, offering a pleasant weight and pressure on the way down her arm, wrapping around that one too.

She was bound now, in a sense, but sent a wash of encouragement through her mind for more, and the tentacle around her calf seized tight before a fourth emerged to capture the other ankle, pulling slowly so Futaba could feel the restriction. Out of curiosity, she started to struggle, finding Necronomicon to be utterly unforgiving until she thought the word 'stop'.

The contact vanished, and Futaba had the briefest sense of falling before the internal gravity caught her again, but she smiled. "Just checking. You can go back to doing that."

 _Gladly._ Yet another tentacle appeared to join the initial four once she was held again, longer and thinner than the rest, its tip skimming across her ribs and just over Futaba's breasts. _Do you wish for your outfit to remain?_

"Jeez, give a girl a little foreplay." She laughed, but the sound dropped to a gasp as the contact became more insistent, teasing her nipples until the the hardened peaks were visible through the black fabric stretched across her chest. "Y-yeah, like that."

Not content with a single way to explore, Necronomicon summoned another long vestige to rub along the notches of her spine, and Futaba's back arched as it reached the nape of her neck. One long brush across her stomach earned a quiet moan, the feeling like an arm embracing her and holding tight, and a tug from the web of tentacles holding her resulted in a shift of position, knees brought up higher and legs spread apart. This time when the wandering one touched her, latex parted like water under the contact, peeling away to reveal bare skin.

It started at Futaba's calf and worked upwards, the padding over her leg disappearing in a bend of light and shadow, and she couldn't help a laugh as the firm tip skirted along the inside of her knee, brief and tickling. The sound when it surrounded her thigh and squeezed was entirely different, and the tentacle's free twin moved to disrobe the other side, the pair joining together to strip her from the waist down. Futaba sucked in a tight breath between her teeth, biting back a moment of embarrassment at the thought that Necronomicon might not like what she found down there, that it wasn't perfect or--

Well, she had watched a lot of porn. People made all kinds of assumptions. 

 _There are plenty who would call me abomination._ The Persona interrupted her anxious train of thought, touch stilling for a moment. _Would you agree?_ _  
_

"Hell, no." Futaba immediately countered. "You're cool and you helped save the world. The tentacle thing is uh...an unexpected bonus." 

 _Then know I believe your intelligence and ingenuity are the only traits that rival your beauty._ Necronomicon declared, and a blush burned up Futaba's face, nearly to the roots of her hair. _You have power, Futaba, and it is all well-deserved._

"Thanks." She muttered, trying to will away the bright red tint to her cheeks.

Right now Futaba wanted to use that power to assuage the building ache under her skin, and her Persona complied with just a thought, creating another pair of tentacles to remove the top half of her outfit as the others massaged along her thighs and further back, curving along her ass in a firm grope that made Futaba's hips snap forward into empty air. It was getting harder to keep track of which tentacle was where, two of them toying with her breasts until she moaned while another pressed firmly up between her thighs. 

The contact alone sent a thrill of pleasure running under Futaba's skin, but when it started to rub across her folds, slow and so very deliberate, she gasped. Her own hands -- and a small but highly curated collection of toys -- felt nothing like the thick shaft sliding back and forth, a constant friction working her from aroused to dripping wet. Each time it brushed just so over her clit, Futaba let out another groan, but it wasn't until Necronomicon pressed the tip of that tentacle against her entrance that she believed this was really happening.

" _Yes_." She had given permission in her head, but needed it said out loud too, and the slow thrust forward that answered almost made Futaba's eyes roll back.

It was a tight, deep stretch, leaving her so full that Futaba could feel the pulse of energy behind each little twitch, and she murmured a curse of awe under her breath the instant before Necronomicon started to move, finding a rhythm that made feel her every possible inch. The tentacle twisted once on its slick withdrawal and Futaba cried out, seeing stars on the back of her eyelids before the Persona repeated the motion, curling and pressing against a particular spot that sent tension rippling up her thighs.

"Holy shit." Every sensation was amazing, but the daredevil in the back of her mind wanted more, to test that limit. It was the same sort of thrill she got from scaling government firewalls and consigning would-be black hats to obscurity with the click of a few keys, risk making victory sweet as could be.

After a quick mental calculation of what would be easier to start with, Futaba made her decision and heard a rumble of approval from Necronomicon, who caressed an unoccupied tentacle up her stomach and over her collarbones, the end stroking along the underside of Futaba's chin before nudging against her lips. She parted them and closed her eyes, trying to relax her jaw so she wouldn't immediately gag, but it was hard to focus when the thrusts of the other tentacle hadn't stopped, when she was being touched from four directions at once and couldn't move except to squirm.

The first few inches were fine, but Futaba had to adjust a little when Necronomicon pressed to the back of her throat, the warm tip curling up against her palate. She breathed out through her nose and shuddered, giving mental permission for the tentacle to move, finding a rhythm that was slightly out of sync with the one between her thighs. A haze of bliss clouded her thoughts, the constant motion alien and almost liquid but so unmistakably good, and when another slender tentacle pressed against Futaba's ass in the same way, she moaned around the shaft between her lips and nodded.

There was an unexpected slickness, almost like lubricant, and then a warm, flat sensation lapping at her from behind like a tongue, the shift of feeling tossing another iron in the fire of her arousal. So much was happening at once that Futaba couldn't center on anything in particular, surrendering to being the node that all this pleasure pulsed through, gratefully overwhelmed. She could take and take without regret, without fear, while floating in a field of electric, anticipatory green. 

 _I know your heart belongs to the Fool._ Necronomicon's voice drifted through the sticky web of her thoughts, coming through in fragments of understanding. _Will you not think of him?_  

A split second after the suggestion was made, Futaba did, shocked when a perfectly clear image displayed across the inside of her goggles. It wasn't a cognitive version of Akira, no, but so very close, and the illusion transformed with the pace of her thoughts, one red-gloved hand stroking over her cheek while his hips moved forward, cock unzipped from layers of tight leather and driving deep inside her. His mask was still on, accenting the warm smile that curved against Futaba's lips when they kissed. Her throat tightened, reminded of Necronomicon's presence there, but the conflict of sensation only spurred her further along.

They could have done this inside Mementos, hidden behind the shadow of her Persona, or even in one of the cells in the Velvet Room, her hands gripping the bars tight while Akira's teeth grazed the back of her neck, hands locked against narrow hips. Futaba let every fraction of fantasy have its moment, an image of riding Akira while holding onto his shoulders melting into the idea of sleepy sex on an early morning, his lean body pressing against her own from behind before he entered between her thighs warm and hard, whispering every loving desire into Futaba's ear.

She was so close, hips twisting back against both tentacles working their way inside her, whimpering as her breasts were toyed with to the bounds of sensitivity, and Futaba felt every muscle in her body tighten all at once when Necronomicon urged something solid against her clit, the low vibration rolling through it making her want to scream. It was impossible to do that at the moment, but Futaba's throat seized around the tentacle there anyway, riding the agonizing edge right before orgasm before two quick thrusts in unison took her right over.

Any limit she might have fathomed shattered in that moment, bliss blotting out everything else but a singular, full-body pulse of pleasure. Futaba couldn't think, utterly enraptured as Necronomicon continued to move, allowing no hesitation from one wave of orgasm to the next, and the faintest ache in her chest was replaced by another image of Akira, holding her through every minute of this. His mask was gone, eyes locked on hers, and the softest whisper of her name made Futaba tremble.

Time fell away from her as Necronomicon slowly removed each touch as carefully as it had been added them, one tentacle disappearing at a time to keep the sudden emptiness from leaving Futaba starved for touch. She was quietly happy for that, closing her eyes again until she felt the goggles disappear, and with it the gravity of the real world returned. Naked in her bed and breathing hard, Futaba turned against her pillow, the burn of tears jumping to the corner of her eyes.

 _Are you well?_ Necronomicon whispered, voice coming as if from a distance again. _I did not intend to cause you harm._  

"You didn't." She murmured into the pillow, sniffling a little but voice firm. "Guess ignoring you for this long left me really pent up, huh? I should have learned that after the first time." 

 _We confront ourselves a thousand times over in one life,_ the Persona replied, _yet_   _that does not necessarily make each occasion any easier._

Futaba was about to make a joke about the Hermit Arcana and philosophy when her phone buzzed, abandoned under the sheets. She found it without looking, forced to wipe a bit of sweat off the lenses of her glasses before making sense of the screen. A text from Akira was displayed there, the little bubble cutting off the end of his sentence. Another faint blush colored her cheeks, reminded of what she had just done thinking of him, but Futaba swiped her thumb across the notification to unlock it.

 _I finally got tickets to come back to Tokyo._ Futaba's pulse thudded in her throat, hard as a hammer. _I want to see you. Maybe talk about some things. Okay?_

At the very end of the message was an emoji she had never seen Akira use before: the tiny red heart.

Maybe it was a mistake to hope. Futaba knew that deep down, but she also knew that burying her feelings was worse. It had nearly ruined her life once upon a time, and perhaps the world was being kind enough to give her a second chance.

After all, it had let her meet him.

\--

 

 


End file.
